He now understood her interest in Taber, as he called himself: habit, a twice-told tale. "Give me till to-morrow," implored she, "and if I can bring myself to part with him, you shall have him without another word. In this way, they reached Holborn Bridge. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame.
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